


Going Out

by punky_96



Series: Meeting Andrew [4]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, F/F, F/M, Genderfluid, M/M, Mirrors, Sensation Play, Spanking, Strap-Ons, mirrors & doubles, orgies & decadence, pegging/strap-ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 19:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15080552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punky_96/pseuds/punky_96
Summary: Characters: Andrea/Miranda, boy!Andy/boy!Miranda, and any combination thereof is fair gamePrompt: KB: orgies & decadence; cross-dressing; gender play; pegging/strap-ons; sensation play; mirrors & doubles; dirty talk; and one teensy, tiny little spank. After you read this can you tell me if it qualifies as identity porn?I don't think this is in direct line with the other two Meeting Andrew fics, but in my mind all the different Andrew fics should be together somehow and the 'series' is the way to do that, I think.Summary: One night can’t solve very real problems but it can be a shining memory to get you through tough times. Andrew takes Randall out for a night of distraction in Paris.





	Going Out

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 1: it’s the magic of fiction, right? An ‘apparatus’ that can be packed to go out in public, but still hard enough to get the job done, while also being double sided for double the pleasure. Hey, I can dream, right? Write!
> 
> A/N 2: I don’t actually know much of anything about drag, so if you do know and would like to help me out because I’ve totally gone wrong, then please send me a PM. Otherwise you just get what I come up with based on the small amount of clues that I have.
> 
> This fic got me started to do this fic: Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/213476?view_adult=true
> 
> Beard tutorial: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jjGvMYFgkE

**Going Out**  
  
It had been a long, heart-breaking day. The build-up had been there for months. She had found herself at a loss as she watched the storms build on the horizon and then the dark clouds roll in and make the skies tremble with their thunder. The twins loved her but wanted more than she seemed able to give. They called to tell her that they wouldn’t be coming home from their father’s. In her empty hotel room, the void seemed to stretch on and on. Andrea stopped by and tried to cheer her up, but there was work to do. So, she had prepared for her night and sent her away.  
  
Irv had been circling the wagons for some time. Over their breakfast meeting, he had pushed her into the inevitable corner. She had used one of her reserve weapons—the list, the list of designers, photographers, and models found by her and nurtured by her. It was the list of people that Irv would lose when Miranda went to another publication or started her own.  
  
Nigel would have been wasting his talent with James Holt, but there was no time to tell him of the change of plans.  
  
He walked out of the luncheon before she had even finished her speech.  
  
Andrea had ridden with her to the afternoon show until she had compared them and their decisions to get ahead.  
  
Miranda couldn’t blame Andrea for walking away. It was a hard thing to make a decision like that and it was even harder to admit that was what you had done. She just hoped that their relationship could withstand the pressures of this storm.  
  
Standing in her hotel room that night the loneliness stretched out like a barren wasteland. She did not see Paris’ beautiful lights below her. The Eiffel tower was leveled under the sadness that crushed her. Andrea would not answer her phone. Nigel didn’t either. Irv would simply retreat and try an even more forceful plan.  
  
Miranda wrapped the thin grey robe tighter around her body. Fashion week was over and so was her life as she knew it—or so it would seem.  
  
The door rattled as someone swiped the key in the lock and Miranda turned to look. Only one person had the other key to her room. Recognizing the figure coming through the door, she amended that thought to two people.  
  
Miranda covered her mouth as a sob shattered the silence in the room. “You came back.”  
  
Dropping his things in the entryway, Andrew stepped hurriedly across the room enveloping her in a strong embrace. His cologne surrounded her. His chest pressed against her. His hands soothed her back. The bulge of his pants pressed against the thin robe. “Shhh. Shhh.” He pressed his cheek against hers and let his hand slide up into her hair.  
  
She felt broken and vulnerable and she held to him like a life-saving rock in the rushing river of her life. In this moment, more than any other, he was her rock.  
  
“I ran into Nigel. He’s pretty sore.” Miranda’s fingers pressed hard into the skin of his arms. Her sobs redoubled and Andrew simply shushed her some more. When her crying had subsided again he added, “However, after a couple of hours and plenty of bourbon, he explained to me why he would forgive you.” Miranda pulled away and searched his brown eyes for any sign of dishonesty. Andrew nodded and kissed her forehead. “Then he explained why you did it. At least as best as he could figure out.” Andrew stepped away and searched Miranda’s blue eyes for answers of his own. “He also said that I needed to forgive you as well.”  
  
Miranda gave him the once over immediately concerned about which version of Andy that Nigel had been talking to.  
  
Andrew shrugged, “Well, not this me.” He waved his arms at himself. “But I think that Andrea needs a little time. That was a nasty shock to have it pointed out how nasty she’d been to Emily.”  
  
Miranda smiled. The person standing in front of her was so amazing. The heart, the sense of understanding of the world, and the flexibility of interacting with the world—all of those details were amazing. Andrea wasn’t ready to deal, but she knew that Miranda would be hurting so she sent Andrew to check on her. It was a convenient way to side step the issue and still be there.  
  
“You’ve had a rough couple of days, Miranda. The teenagers are being difficult. Having to smash a friend’s dream. Having a big argument with your girlfriend.” Andrew’s voice changed as he turned and walked back to the entryway. The large duffel bag was new and Miranda let herself be distracted by the mystery in order to evade the harsh truths Andrew was sharing.  
  
Coming back into the living room, Andrew set the duffle down on the couch. “It’s Friday. Fashion week is over.” He unzipped the bag and began to set its contents out on the couch. “Your flight home is on Sunday morning.” Andrew stepped forward to Miranda his hands on her shoulders. “We are going out.” Grabbing Miranda’s fuzzy robe, he pulled her to him, kissing her hard and opening his mouth to tangle his tongue with hers. It was sudden and shocking and not at all what she was expecting. Her gasp of surprise quickly morphed into kissing back, sucking on Andrew’s tongue and aggressively leaning toward him into the kiss. Stepping back Andrew pulled the tie of Miranda’s robe opening it before slipping his hands inside brushing against her nipples and exposing her skin to the cool air of the suite as he pushed it back off her shoulders. It fell to the floor with a quiet swoosh sound.  
  
Stepping back he bit his lower-lip as he looked her body over. She stood without make-up, hair limp and pressed against her head, her breasts alert and nipples pert, her sex only covered by the blue lace of her panties. She was beautiful standing there vulnerable and barefooted.  
  
Andrew busied himself among the supplies on the couch and then turned once more to face her. He was holding a roll of three-inch white fabric. Miranda knew this fabric. She had pulled and unrolled and otherwise clawed at this same type of fabric wrapped around Andrew’s breasts. She closed her eyes shaking her head a moment in disbelief. Feeling Andrew’s hands steady and sure against her skin, Miranda lifted her arms. She supposed that it was only a matter of time before this would happen between them. She had always thought that a strap-on would be her first and only foray into Andrew’s things.  
  
Knowing that would be part of this costume made her tingle all over.  
  
Kneeling before her Andrew kissed her mound. “You are so beautiful.” He hooked his thumbs into the straps of her underwear and then pulled them down in one long slow sure movement. He kissed her mound again this time rubbing his face against the short course hairs there. “You will be so handsome.” He whispered reverently as he looked up at her past her bound breasts.  
  
He grabbed the leather harness and then resumed his position on his knees in front of her. He helped her to step out of the panties and into the harness. Then he slid it up most of the way and reached for what looked like his favorite blue cock. Miranda thought she knew what Andrea had packed and she wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed that their agreement to leave Andrew at home had been completely ignored. “Andrea didn’t pack any of this.” He said as he slipped the longer end of the cock through the metal O-ring. He leaned forward and sucked the interior end of the dildo into his mouth. Miranda felt a gush of wetness between her legs at the sight of her boyfriend sucking the dildo. Reflexively she parted her legs more.  
  
Wickedly Andrew looked up at her, “Ready?” He asked before reaching with one hand along her leg and then to her sex. Two fingers probed against her and Miranda fought back the moan in her throat. Andrew’s eyes never left hers as he slid the cold silicone up and then into position instead of teasing with his fingers. With both hands he pulled the harness up and then tightened it against her skin. Not moving he reached on the couch for something.  
  
Miranda stood there, her sex stretching around the broad nub of the cock inside her. Her heart rate had accelerated and her breasts heaved against their binding hot and tight against her skin. She was excited but she still felt like herself.  
  
Andrew broke her moment of wonder by handing her a tank top. Miranda pulled it over her head and then down over her bound breasts. It was a tight white tank top like she knew Andrew wore. He reached again and handed her a button down shirt as well. She flipped it over her head and then slipped her arms into it one by one. Her swift fingers slipped one button at a time through the hole and then moving on to the next one. Andrew watched from his vantage point mesmerized by her transformation.  
  
With the last button done, Miranda looked down at him and raised her eyebrow. ‘Don’t stop now.’ It said.  
  
Handing her a pair of jeans, Andrew smirked, “I think your ass will look great in them.” Miranda laughed and shook her head in disbelief. If he had just asked her, she would have worn them for him anytime. Although she supposed that this made it have a completely different connotation. She would remember the jeans all the same. She balanced with a hand on Andrew’s shoulder and followed his lead as he helped her step into the pants.  
  
Andrew pulled the jeans up and reluctantly stood so that he could tuck her shirt in. He left the jeans unbuttoned with the blue cock hanging out. He wished that he wasn’t packing and could just pull her into the bedroom. Looking her over, he wasn’t sure he’d ever have this chance again and he focused on his purpose once more. From the couch he pulled a baggy of hair and set it on the arm. He smiled at Miranda’s questioning look, but just opened the zip-lock baggie and rolled the top down so that it would stay open. Reaching again in his bag, Andrew pulled out a sharpie and some weave bonding glue. He worked quickly—dabbing on the glue in small portions, reaching into the hair baggie and pressing bits of hair into the glue, and then repeating. Miranda wondered if the beard would look like the one Andrew wore. She thought it would be hot to look similar to Andrew. Idly she thought about the fact that he was also wearing jeans tonight.  
  
It took a while, but Miranda supposed Andrew moved as quickly as he possibly could.  
  
Picking up a brush from the couch, Andrew quickly brushed her hair down flat with a side part and her bangs over one eye. She supposed it was a good thing that she was depressed and had no make-up on.  
  
Andrew stepped back and looked at her. “We need to fix it up, but we have to wait for the glue to dry.” He looked like he wanted to devour her on the spot. Miranda’s sex clenched around the phallus between her legs. “You need a name.” He said as he let his hands slide from his creation’s shoulders down the front of her mostly flattened chest and then rested them against hips. “Mmmm.” He thought as his thumbs slid up and down against the hips of his jeans. “Randall?” Andrew kneeled as his lover watched him with hungry blue eyes. “Sounds like Randa.” Andrew stretched out his tongue letting the tip of it lightly lick the blue tip. He applied just enough pressure to move the cock visibly to blue eyes growing wild and inside against the wet muscles. “I could say Randa, Randall in the throes of passion.” His mouth hovering open just at the tip of the dildo, he looked up with brown eyes. “Can you hear me say it, Randall?” A moment passed between them as they both heard it in their minds. Miranda nodded and placed her hand against the back of Andrew’s head. He leaned forward devouring the cock with his mouth making sure to hum and moan and move the cock just as much as his head.  
  
“Andrew.” Randall couldn’t help it. He probably was ruining Andrew’s hair, but it just felt so good that he couldn’t help himself. Randall’s hips rocked forward and his fingers tangled in the brown hair. “Andrew.” The muscles inside her sex were clenching as if they had been fucking for hours. Randall moaned long and loud feeling the pull of the glue around his mouth as he did. His chest was heaving against the bindings and hot under the double fabric of the shirts. The noises Andrew was making made his ears burn and his sex clench. It did not take long until he pressed his hips forward and then felt his body go rigid. Andrew held him up with firm hands on his hips.  
  
Leaning back on his heels, Andrew looked up reverently watching his lover recover.  
  
Standing Andrew tucked the cock into the jeans and buttoned them. He was rough, moving Randall this way and that as he did so. The inner sex was still throbbing, pulsing and so wet it hurt. Randall knew that Andrew knew this and was using it to his advantage. He was sure that it heightened the experience somehow. Holding up a small manicure scissor, Andrew stepped forward trimming a breathless Randall’s beard.  
  
Taking a moment to fix his own hair, Andrew kissed him on the mouth the tickling of their beards different somehow than when it was just Andrew’s beard. Andrew had told him once that so much about it was a state of mind. Randall wondered if this was a small example of this effect.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
Montmartre near Moulin Rouge had a darkened club just off the main street. After a few words with the corseted woman at the top of the inner stairs, Andrew pulled Randall’s hand leading him down into the even darker basement. The lights were low, the walls covered in velvet, and people ebbed and flowed to the low thrum of different music than the upstairs club with its flickering lights.  
  
Andrew stood behind Randall holding him around the waist. He leaned forward pressing his body against his lover. “At Runway events everyone wants to fuck you.” Letting his hand slide down, Andrew pressed even harder against his back as he cupped Randall’s cock through the jeans. “Now everyone here wants you to fuck them.” He circled his hand against Randall’s cock and then bit his neck as he leaned back against him. “Drink in the decadent feeling, Randall.” He moved his hands up pressing his palms flat against Randall’s chest and bumping his hips against his ass. “Enjoy the moral decay around you.” He rubbed his mustached lips against the back of Randall’s neck and then bit down on the other side. “But remember you are mine.” Andrew released him and stepped away.  
  
Randall turned to look for his lover, but only saw the back of a brown head in the dim light heading toward the bar.  
  
Hands reached out and touched, bodies pushed and pulled against him as the crowd settled in around him. Randall heard the whisper of Andrew’s words again in his brain and then relaxed into the crowd. Bumping and grinding to the beat was not sex. The hint of all these bodies pulsing against each other, hands touching, and mouths kissing—well, Randall had to admit it all added up to the decadence of an orgy.  
  
He marveled at the difference of going out as someone else, of changing every aspect of his identity except for his hair color. He did not speak, but no words were needed in this mutually open place. If you came here, you had agreed to be here. He did not let others claim his mouth instead turning away. However, they could touch him as they pleased so long as the clothing stayed in place. More than once he had to grab hasty hands that pushed too far. His shirt had come untucked and his hair was sweat slicked against his face, but he felt that it only added somehow to the atmosphere of unbridled pleasure. Once or twice Andrew had come to him, with a drink and a kiss. Each time he retreated away into the crowd perhaps watching or enjoying his own pleasures. Randall soaked it all in, wondering at the fact that he was not jealous. He wondered if that was because he was overwhelmed with the sheer sensuality, opportunity, and power presented to him; or if perhaps it was the total transformation that he was wallowing in; or perhaps that his previous jealousies were based on insecurity in the partner—Andrew inspired only loyalty and gave of himself completely.  
  
Spilling up and out into the street in the grey time before dawn, Randall was instantly relieved to feel the cool air press against him from all sides. The sweat that he would have worried about provided an even cooler effect as the breeze picked up and they walked back to the main street. Hand in hand they stood and hailed a taxi.  
  
They both snoozed in the backseat and barely responded to the shouts of the driver. Andrew yawned and flipped some Euros out of his pocket. He went around and pulled Randall out of the taxi. Once again hit by the fresh air, Randall awoke to his second wind.  
  
Knowing that Randall was back in the game, Andrew shut the door and quickly led him to the bedroom of the suite. There was no way he was going to do this against the door. He wanted Randall to have the most decadent time he could have and he thought that this time it might be appropriate in front of the bedroom mirror on his hands and knees.  
  
As soon as Andrew stopped by the bed, Randall was on him kissing and pulling at his button-down shirt. He helped when Randall struggled with the buttons, which allowed Randall to reach for his button fly. In an unspoken agreement, Andrew was stripped down until the bare body before Randall’s eyes was flushed and feminine and wanting. The chin and lip were red from peeling off the glue, but with her hair down and her curved breasts moving as she breathed in and out there was no mistaking that Andrea had returned. She reached and pulled Randall with her as she climbed into bed. She kissed Randall reveling in the tickle of the coarse hairs against her sensitive skin. Randall pulled at Andrea’s long hair enjoying the contrast. Bobbing on the bed, Andrea turned her back to Randall even as she reached to pull his hands against her skin. “Look at yourself.” Andrea breathed as she cupped her own breasts and widened the stance of her knees. “You were the most handsome man at the club, Randall.” Andrea rotated her hips back against the front of his jeans. “I wanted you to take me there on the dance floor.” Andrea grabbed Randall’s hands and placed them on her breasts. “No one would have noticed, well,” She smiled at him, “They wouldn’t have minded.” She corrected herself.  
  
Randall watched transfixed as his hands worked Andrea’s breasts and pinched her nipples. But this man with silver hair and a silver and pepper goatee kneeled behind her. It felt like he was watching someone else getting ready to fuck his girlfriend. It felt like he was getting ready to fuck. The swirl of it—the identities, the images, the night in the club, and the physical sensations of male and female all at the same time in his own body and under his fingers as he touched his lover—were too much.  
  
Andrea moaned as Randall pulled and pinched her nipples tugging as far away from her body as he could pull them. “I was worried that you were too big for me, Randall.” Andrea said after she moaned. Then she fixed him with a look in the mirror. “I’m so wet that I think I’m ready for the stretch of you.” Andrea reached down as they both watched and dipped one, then two, and then three fingers into her desire, while grinding her hips in quite the show for them. She reached up letting her fingers touch Randall’s face. He reached with one of his hands trapping her arm and then licking her fingers clean. “Bend me over, Randall.” Her voice placed extra breathy emphasis on the name. “Fuck me, baby.”  
  
That was all it took. Randall released Andrea’s hand and grabbed the back of her neck slowly pushing her down in front of him. She raised her head and looked at him. He could just see her deep brown eyes and the gentle sway of her breasts from between her arms. He knew this position from the many times Andrew had put Miranda’s body into it. Around the blue cock his muscles clenched hard at the thought of so much pleasure. He hoped that Andrew’s usual position would bring the same delight. Unbuttoning his jeans took precious seconds and then his cock bobbed free sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.  
  
Rolling her hips and moving like a sensual beast from lore, Andrea bumped against Randall’s cock. “Please, Randall.”  
  
It wasn’t the same, but Randall placed one hand on Andrea’s hip and then searched with the fingertips of the other. Andrea hissed as two fingers teased her. Then she moaned loudly and pushed back hard as Randall forward. “I can feel you all the way in me. I knew you would stretch me like this, Randall.”  
  
Something in Randall clicked into place then and he began to pump slowly in and out of his lover. The muscles of her back and the place where his body slid into hers made him wet and slippery. He felt the harness push and pull against his skin under the tightness of the jeans. He felt his breasts heaving against their bindings. The hardness of his nipples almost painful as he began to really get into the motions. He drank all of these sensations in, playing the evening back in his head at the same time, and then let himself become intoxicated with the smells, sounds, and beautiful images of Randall fucking his lover Andrea in the mirror.  
  
Andrea was panting and watching him in the mirror as well. “You like watching yourself fucking me, don’t you, Randall.”  
  
He shivered and then reached back with one hand and slapped Andrea’s ass with a satisfying crack of flesh against flesh. “Yes.” Was all the coherence his brain could muster as he watched the flesh turn pink and then white again.  
  
Andrea shifted letting her face mush against the covers and changing the angle of their joining. He remembered Miranda’s pleasure ratcheting up from this and he remembered how it felt to be taken roughly from behind as expert fingers circled and pressed against the clit. He watched the mirror and could tell that Andrea was reacting the same as Miranda did.  
  
Muffled against the cover, Andrea had begun to chant as she pressed hard back into him with every thrust. “Randa, Randa, Randa.” It seemed to quicken in pace and desperation as their bodies moved faster and faster and harder and harder against each other.  
  
One moment he felt that he was simply pushing Andrea toward her own completion and then the wave crested before he even realized it had built and he was coming and coming and coming as he thrust into her over and over and over. It was as if he couldn’t stop as each wave clenched his sex hard and his body convulsed forward and back against Andrea.  
  
Her moans had eventually evened out into a scream followed by her collapse forward on the bed. Randall fell with her and it was the only thing that broke their never-ending orgasm. Even then, bodies separated sort of, they gasped and panted and their bodies shook with powerful after-shocks.  
  
Andrea eventually turned and then rolled Randall onto his back. She straddled him and began to press and tug on his beard. It wasn’t the kind of pillow talk Randall had expected. He wanted to protest, but Andrea’s body kept bumping his cock that still buried deep inside the juncture of his thighs. And he was still throbbing.  
  
“If I didn’t do it now, you would be very upset in the morning to do it.” Andrea kissed him breathless again. “This way you associate the pain with the pleasure and it’s not as bad.” Andrea adjusted her position dragging the jeans down his legs and then unstrapping the harness and pulling the cock from within. The squelching sound it made as her inner walls finally released it would have been absolutely mortifying if Andrea replaced the space of the toy with her fingers and then began sucking on her clit. The thrusts were slow and massage like. Miranda felt herself returning and reveling in the sensations of being massaged and loved this way. This time she felt the orgasm build and rode the crest of it with her hand buried in Andrea’s tresses and holding the pillow over her sensitive mouth.  
  
Crawling up her body and slipping her fingers against Miranda’s sex, Andrea licked them clean. She began unbuttoning Miranda’s shirt. “I like it best when I can come again after I’ve already had sex once or twice.” Andrea bent forward kissing an overloaded Miranda on the lips. “My sex is so wet and swollen that I think surely I can’t come again.” Andrea simply began tearing the fabric binding her breasts letting it make fabulous ripping sounds that made her smile. Miranda watched her in a daze. “The body is amazing.” She pulled the useless pieces of fabric from under Miranda. “See for yourself.” Andrea said as she guided Miranda’s hand up to her drippingly decadent sex. “You were so rough with me tonight.” Andrea rubbed her sex against Miranda’s fingers. “I’m so sensitive.” Taking the hint Miranda adjusted her body so that she could reach Andrea with both hands. She slowly circled her lover’s clit with her thumb and with the other hand gently pushed up into her with four fingers. Remembering the sensuous feel of Andrea massaging her slowly, Miranda bit her lip and tried to copy.  
  
It didn’t take long to have Andrea moaning and then crying out her pleasure. “Mi-RANDA.” Then she collapsed against her lover and they curled together whispering into sleep.  
  
They awoke in the afternoon suddenly bashful as the previous twenty-four hours washed over them.  
  
Andrea kissed Miranda keeping her in place. “Last night can’t change all the things going on.” Miranda searched her brown eyes for more. “It can’t change that there are very real problems. But it can give you a shining moment of distraction and pure pleasure to carry you forward through it all.”  
  
Miranda held Andrea close to her. “My girls.” She whispered.  
  
“Adore you. And adore me.” Andrea had smirked at Miranda’s surprise to that answer. “But they are often not home anyway and they will miss you. I have seen it in my friends many times—going to one parent only to go back to the other parent.” She kissed Miranda’s forehead. “It doesn’t mean they don’t love you. They just have to know what it would be like. Besides you know, they hate Kelly.”  
  
Miranda couldn’t help her chuckle at that. “Irv will just try again.”  
  
“Maybe it’s time to put that Runway, Inc plan into motion and make him a moot point.” Andrea fixed her with a look. “Time for talking is over, I think. It’s time for doing.” Andrea tweaked Miranda’s nipple to make her point, only to be batted away.  
  
“And Nigel.” Miranda had to go through her checklist.  
  
“He sent me back to you, remember.” Andrea tried for the nipple once again and was once again swatted away.  
  
“And you?” Miranda whispered her eyes boring into Andrea’s.  
  
“I love you, silly.” Andrea beamed at Miranda as the woman gasped. She finally was able to cup her breast.  
  
“I love you, too.” Miranda breathed out.  
  
“I know.” Andrea beamed back at her and Miranda could see the Andrew persona clearly in the sparkle of those brown eyes. “Now remember what I said about the best sex being after, when you were all swollen and sensitive and wet…” Miranda nodded feeling her body reacting already to Andrea’s touch. “It’s even better after you’ve slept a few hours.” With that Andrea tweaked Miranda’s nipple and then reached down to touch her sex that throbbed with desire exactly as described. Miranda mirrored her thinking of the mirror and knowing her body was ready again.  


  
**The End.**

  
x

 


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